


(Don't) Tell Me What I Want To Hear

by mozbee



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fear of Abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: Billy Batson has lived with the Vasquez clan for a few months, and against his will, he likes it. He likes them. But always, there is the voice in his head that promises: you don't deserve them.Nobody means forever.---Billy gets in a fight and expects to be sent packing.





	1. Chapter 1

Billy was greeted at the door by an enthusiastic Darla.

 

“Look, Billy, look!” she cried, cradling something in her arms. Billy grinned at her and dropped his backpack by the front door, pushing it shut behind him.

 

“Is that a cat?” he asked, getting to his knees and peering at the grey bundle in her arms. Darla nodded, beaming at him.

 

“I named him Louie!”

 

“That’s a great name for a cat,” Billy said, catching Victor’s eye as he came out of the kitchen. “Where did Louie come from?”

 

“Darla found him in the backyard, and we _might_ be keeping him,” Victor said, coming to stand behind Darla and place a hand on her shoulder. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t name him.”

 

Darla shrugged, and turned the cat onto his back. He stretched and Billy could hear thunderous purring. “Well, if we are just fostering him, he still needs a name, right?” She grinned up at Victor. “Just like me and Billy and Eugene and—”

 

“Okay, okay,” Victor chuckled. “You make a good point. But once Rosa has the flyers printed, we need to put them up all around the neighbourhood. We don’t want to keep this cat from a loving home if he ran away.”

 

“Do you want to hold him?” Darla asked Billy. She thrust an armful of cat at him, and he took the offered bundle.

 

“Hi, Louie,” Billy said to the cat. He blinked back at Billy. “Uh, how’s it going?” Darla giggled.

 

“Have you ever talked to a cat before, Billy?”

 

_Just the dead ones in the alley,_ Billy thought. Louie was soft and warm against his chest, instead of emaciated, bedraggled, pressed against a dumpster, stiff in death. A living cat was much more pleasant.

 

“Billy?” He snapped back to the present, and saw Darla and Victor watching him, confused and concerned respectively. He handed the cat back to Darla.

 

“He’s a nice cat,” he said to Darla, and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to go do my homework, okay?” he said to Victor, grabbing his backpack and hurrying up the stairs to his shared room with Freddy. Freddy glanced up from his seat in front of the computer.

 

“Hey man. What’s up? How was prison?” Billy huffed out a sigh and dropped on his bed.

 

“Boring,” he admitted. “Phys ed was cancelled for some presentation in the gym by “community abstinence leaders”,” he mocked what his history teacher had called the group of overly enthused youths. Freddy burst out laughing.

 

“Dude, for real? Do they not know how many guys take girls to the smoking pit out back to practice, like, the exact opposite of abstinence?” He coughed harshly and reached for his water bottle on the corner of the desk.

 

Billy snorted. “I think they know exactly how many guys do that.” He turned to watch Freddy, wincing in sympathy as he coughed again. “You still sound like shit.”

 

“It got me out of the dickless pep rally,” Freddy rasped, flipping him off. Billy laughed. “Did you see Darla’s cat?”

 

“Yeah. Louie?”

 

“Oh, so she did name him,” Freddy sighed. “Now we’ll never get rid of him. Just ask Vic and Rosa, all of us are named and we’re here to stay.”

 

Billy’s heart did that funny kick it did whenever he thought of his life for the next few weeks, months, years. The longer he stayed with the Vasquez family, the easier he could imagine himself fitting into the neat slot they had set aside for him from the start. And it scared him. Nobody ever meant forever.

 

“Billy?”

 

“Sorry,” Billy said quickly. He sat up and opened his backpack. “Brought you your homework.”

 

“Dude!”

-

-

-

Billy pushed the green beans around on his plate, the last thing from his dinner to eat. He popped one in his mouth and chewed quickly, trying to get it over with. He shuddered as he swallowed, and from the corner of his eye caught Darla giving him the thumbs up.

 

“Need any help with your homework, Billy?” Rosa asked over the rest of the family’s chattering. Billy shook his head.

 

“I got it done. Thanks,” he added. “Is it all right if I go for a bike ride after dinner?”

 

“Can I come?” Darla asked eagerly. Rosa smiled at her.

 

“Your turn for kitchen duty tonight with me, remember?”

 

“Aww,” Darla sighed, frowning down at her potatoes. Then she brightened, looking at Billy hopefully. “Maybe tomorrow?”

 

Billy pushed down the awkward swell in his chest, the one that always threatened when Darla or Eugene wanted to spend time with him, when Mary asked about school and actually wanted to hear his answer, when Rosa or Victor yelled for a family photo and tugged Billy into the middle of the couch. He wanted to succumb to it, wanted to let it wash over him. He knew what it was. He’d had it from his mom, or at least thought he did. And that was why he knew how much love hurt. He couldn’t get as close to them as part of him wanted to, because there was just as big a part of him that was terrified of what it would mean. _Nobody means forever._

 

“Billy?” He snapped out of his reverie with the touch of a small hand on his wrist. Darla was watching him, eyes sad, taking his silence for refusal.

 

“Y-yeah,” he managed, and smiled back at her. “Maybe tomorrow.” Victor came clomping down the stairs then, distracting everyone from Billy’s space-out. He carried an empty plate and ducked into the kitchen.

 

“How’s Freddy?” Rosa asked when Victor came back into the dining room. He made a face.

 

“He sounds like a pterodactyl trying out Mongolian throat singing,” he said, and Darla burst into giggles.

 

“How would you know what a pterodactyl sounds like?”

 

Victor winked at Billy and leaned in close to Darla. “Because I’m so old, I was there when they were alive. And hey! Wanna know something funny?” Darla nodded, grinning, and he said, “I had a pterodactyl friend, and I named him Louie too!”

 

Darla gasped and sat up in her chair. “Louie! He needs his dinner!” She jumped off her chair and went running into the kitchen.

 

“Darla! Your beans—!" Rosa sighed and gave Victor a look. He grinned sheepishly and stood, dropping his napkin onto the table.

 

“I’ll just—” he jerked his thumb at the kitchen and hurried off. Rosa sighed and looked around the table.

 

“Billy, if you like, you can go for your bike ride now,” she offered. “Just be back by eight. Sound good?”

 

He shoved his chair back from the table, cramming the last few beans in his mouth. “Thanks!” He grabbed his plate and water glass to drop off in the kitchen, sidestepping Louie skittering around under the table, Darla making exasperated sounds at him while Victor portioned out the cat food, and dashing up the stairs for a sweater. He burst into his bedroom then froze guiltily when he saw Freddy stretched out in his bunk, snoring softly. Billy crept over to the closet and tugged on his black sweater and left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. He passed Pedro on the stairs, exchanging a high-five with the other boy and jumped the last three steps, thudding on the floor and eagerly running out the front door.

 

Soon he was flying down the street, swerving off the sidewalk to avoid the garbage cans pulled to the curb, and was off. The early spring night was brisk, crisp air slapping him about the face, cutting through his lungs and making each breath sharp and clear. Old snow, grey with dirty black edges, sat shovelled in dwindling piles in parking lots and shoved against buildings. Billy had purposely left his helmet tucked away in the shed, needing to feel the wind blow through his hair, ruffle his bangs. Besides, it was safe; all he needed to do was yell one word and he was impervious to car doors and pavement.

 

He rode easily through the streets, cycling past a park with young kids running around while their parents held coffee cups and stood in huddled groups. Billy went past the convenience store with the best red slushees, and after that followed blocks of apartment buildings and loan huts. With a sick swoop in his gut Billy realized he was nearing his mom’s neighbourhood. He slowed his roll and stopped at an intersection, steadying himself with one foot on the ground, the other kicking at his pedal. He could see the route he had taken the first—and only—time he had gone to see her. Even though it had been a few months, he still felt that shaky, unidentifiable feeling deep inside.

 

Billy watched the setting sun casting out dying rays of light. He still didn’t know what he felt about how things had turned out with his mom. It had hurt, more than anything could have hurt. Her rejection, her admission of seeing him after she had lost him, and then…

 

She forgot him.

 

She didn’t even remember the compass she had won him. That was the one physical memory of her he had had, and he’d cherished it deeply, rolling it between his hands every day, keeping it warm in his pocket, fidgeting with it at every door he knocked on, heart in his throat as he waited for the door to swing open and make or break him.

 

Every time the door was pulled open and a woman stared back at him, every time it wasn’t her, every time his heart crashed to the pit of his stomach, he felt himself crack. A little more, with every disappointment, and he wondered how long it would take to break apart.

 

So, he got tougher. He learned to see what people could give him, what he could use them for. He stopped looking for friends, or family. He would use others to help him find his mother. There was no point in getting close to these temporary parents, siblings; he would just leave them one day. Before they could leave him.

 

Now, though, with the Vasquez family… Billy sighed, confused with his feelings towards them all. He wished he knew them outside of being a family; maybe it would be easier for him to accept them if they didn’t come with such heavy implications. Victor and Rosa were ready for anything he threw at them. They met challenges head-on and did it all for the children they took care of. Billy didn’t know if he wanted to be part of that, part of a clan. Sometimes he thought he did, and he would join in on game night and trivia and help Darla bake and swap band names with Pedro and tease Mary about the book she was reading, and pretend to understand Eugene when he excitedly chattered on about his latest project.

 

An ugly voice sat in the back of Billy’s head, always ready to chime in with dark thoughts. _They won’t want you forever. You’re going to screw up and that’ll be it. This time next year, they won’t even remember you. You don’t deserve them._

Billy hated that voice. He hated it because he was scared it was right. It always had been before. And now, he didn’t even have the promise of reuniting with his mom to keep him keeping on, pushing through the endless days towards a bright beacon at the end, life with his mom. He had nothing and no one.

 

Billy angrily pushed off, swinging his bike around, turning his back on his mom’s neighbourhood, and pedaled furiously through the streets. The streetlights were blazing, and he rode under halo after halo of pale yellow light, heading home, or what passed for home, for now. He was lost in thought and didn’t notice someone stepping out in front of him until it was too late, and he gasped and jerked his bike to the side, crashing into a pile of garbage bags outside of a restaurant. He groaned when the handlebars dug into his stomach, leaving him winded as he lay on his side in rank-smelling trash, legs tangled in his bike.

 

“What the hell, kid?” Billy snapped his head up at the voice. He stared up at an older boy, wearing a leather jacket over a bare chest, black shoulder-length hair dishevelled. “You trying to come at me?” He flicked a lit cigarette at Billy’s face.

 

Billy flinched and struggled to stand, angrily kicking his bike away as he got to his feet. “You cut me off,” Billy snapped. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”

 

The boy’s eyebrows raised, expression incredulous. He huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “What did you say to me?”

 

“ _You_ cut _me_ off,” Billy hissed, taking a step closer. His jeans were damp with some sick-smelling garbage juice, his palms scraped. His heart was hammering in his chest, revving up. He knew what was going to happen. “So watch where you’re going.”

 

“For a snot-nosed brat, you’re sure got a mouth on you,” mused his antagonizer.

 

“Kick his ass, Lou!”

 

Billy spun around at the new voice, and saw a lanky man grinning at him. “Cat got your tongue, kid?” Billy was shoved from behind and stumbled forward.

 

“You need to learn to respect your elders, my man.” Lou was right behind him, and he shoved him again. “Now, who cut who off?”

 

Billy clenched his fists and glanced around the street. There were a handful of people out, but more crammed into the restaurant behind him. He was in too plain view to risk transforming. After the mess with Sivana, he was determined to keep his identity a secret, so his friends (family?) could never be used or hurt again because of him. His gaze fell on an alley behind the restaurant, and he made up his mind.

 

“You cut me off, dickwad,” Billy sneered, and he shoved past Lou and took off for the alley, leaving his bike amongst the garbage. He heard footsteps pounding down the pavement after him.

 

“ _Cut him off!”_ One of them shouted as he skidded around a dumpster at the mouth of the alley. Just a few more feet and he could do it.

 

“Shaza--!” Billy cut off with a grunt when something hard swung into his gut. He doubled over, winded, and saw Lou grinning at him, a grungy board hefted over his shoulder.

 

“Don’t you like me and Jimmy?”

 

Jimmy loped up behind them. “Looks like we need to teach you some manners, son.” Billy straightened with a wince and his legs were kicked out from under him. He pitched forward and caught himself on his hands, and cried out when a heavy boot stomped down, mere centimetres from his fingers.

 

He was shoved and rolled onto the ground, gravel digging into his aching back, and suddenly Lou was on top of him, and he brought a meaty fist down. Pain exploded in his face, his left eye and nose throbbing horribly. He pushed at Lou, desperate to get the heavy weight off that straddled him, and opened his mouth—

 

And stopped. If he called down his powers now, Lou would get blasted. He couldn’t do it until he got Lou off of him. Billy writhed and kicked, and managed to get an elbow up and crack it against his sternum. He was rewarded with a pained grunt for his efforts and he did it again, then reached up and shoved as hard as he could. Lou toppled to the side and Billy shot to his feet, swaying when a wave of dizziness took over. He blinked blood out of his eye, and spat more from his mouth.

 

He was tackled from behind and slammed hard on his elbows and knees, raw skin scraping in dirt and broken glass. His fingers brushed against the discarded board. He scrambled to his feet, and spun to meet his opponent.

 

Billy swung the board, and it glanced off of Jimmy’s head. The man gave Billy a murderous look, and flipped open a switchblade. “You’re gonna regret that, boy.”

 

“Hey!” A loud cry cut the air and the three of them turned. A police officer was fast approaching them, a squad car with its lights flashing parked behind him. As one, Lou and Jimmy took off, feet pounding down the alley and disappearing from sight. Billy hesitated too long; his head spun and he tried to stagger away, but the cop caught up to him.

 

“Don’t,” Billy snapped when a hand reached out to steady him. He leaned against the brick wall, wincing at the ache in his back, his palms and knees and face.

 

“Easy, kid,” said the officer. His radio squawked and he muttered into it. “Suspects are on foot, south down the alley behind Red Market.” He focused on Billy again. “Can you tell me your name, son?”

 

“Billy,” he mumbled, sagging against the wall. Strong arms caught him and helped him stand.

 

“Okay, Billy, I’m going to help you to my car, all right? It’s just behind me there.” They started a slow walk to the squad car, blue and red lights lighting up the night scene. “My name is Jake.”

 

Billy ignored him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. His mind was swirling with guilt, with rage. Why hadn’t he transformed? He could have knocked those guys out with a punch, but they got the drop on him like he was some helpless kid. Now he was going to have to tell Victor and Rosa what happened, and the thought of their reactions made him feel sick. They didn’t deserve some delinquent, someone who was better off in juvie—

 

Billy came to a sudden stop, forcing Jake to stop with him, mere feet from the police car. “Billy? You all right? Need me to go slower?”

 

“Are you taking me to jail?” Billy was proud of how his voice didn’t crack. Jake looked confused under the brim of his hat.

 

“Jail? No, of course not. I’m going to take you home.” He gently nudged against Billy and they started walking again. “Who do you live with?”

 

“My f—foster family,” Billy muttered. Like he even deserved to call them that. Jake nodded and opened the front passenger door, helping Billy slide in. He rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.

 

“You know the address?”

-

-

-

Billy’s mouth was dry and pasty by the time the cop car pulled up out front of the house. Jake turned and looked at him. “Ready?” Billy nodded jerkily, even though it was a lie. He knew he stood on the edge of a precipice, Victor and Rosa and Freddy and the rest on one side, and a cold unknown on the other. His door was pulled open, and Billy trudged up the walkway to the front door. Jake knocked when Billy was too frozen to move.

 

The door swung open almost immediately, and Mary stood there, wide-eyed. “Billy!” she cried, and pulled him into the house. “Eugene! Call Victor and Rosa, tell them Billy came home!” She turned back to him, worry clear in his face. “What happened to you? What happened to your face? What—oh,” Mary saw Jake hovering behind Billy. She shot an anxious look at Billy. “What’s going on?”

 

“Billy!” Freddy came down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutch as he swung it as fast as he could to get to the door. “Dude, what the shit?”

 

“Freddy,” Mary hissed. Eugene came out of the kitchen, holding the phone out.

 

“Rosa wants to talk to him. Hi, Billy. Whoa, are you okay?” Eugene’s eyes were huge as he took in Billy’s bloodied face. Billy’s shoulders hunched as everyone stared at him. He could hear a muted voice emanating from the phone in Eugene’s outstretched hand.

 

“Rosa is your foster mom?” Jake asked Billy quietly. Billy nodded, his chest hollow, icy. Jake smiled at Eugene. “You think I could talk to her first?” Eugene handed the phone over, and Billy shifted nervously. Freddy was giving him a hard look. He glanced away from Freddy, trying to fight off the quiver in his lip that threatened.

 

“Why don’t you come sit down, Billy?” Mary asked, placing a hand on his elbow. He yanked his arm away from her but walked into the living room. He stared at the couch, listening to the telltale thunk of Freddy following him.

 

“You should sit down, dude. Before you fall down.” Billy shook his head.

 

“Dirty,” he muttered. Mary had evidently followed Freddy in, and she sighed softly.

 

“Rosa and Victor are on their way home. Do you want to get cleaned up before they get here?”

 

_Why? So I can live on the streets in clean clothes?_ Billy just shook his head as Jake stepped into the room.

 

“Your foster parents will be here soon. They’re worried but they’re not mad at you,” Jake told him, as if that would help. Being mad at someone meant you cared about them, cared about the things they did and how it affected them. Foster parents never got mad. They just called the caseworker and forgot.

 

Mary was suddenly beside him, holding out a white washcloth. “Do you want to wash your face?” she asked quietly. Billy took the cloth from her and wrung it in his hands, drops of warm water leaking out to run down his fingers, tracing a path through the grime on his hands. The room was silent.

 

The front door banged open, followed by an offhand apology from Victor, and he and Rosa ran into the room. They stopped short when Billy lifted his head to face them. Rosa inhaled shakily, her eyes running over his body. She looked sad. Victor stepped up to him, and slowly raised his hands to lay one on each of Billy’s shoulders. Billy flinched, an involuntary jerk that made him drop his gaze again, staring at his dirty tennis shoes on the scrubbed floor. Victor dropped his hands to his sides.

 

“Mary, Freddy, can you give us some privacy please?” Victor asked, glancing over his shoulder. Mary nodded and urged Freddy out of the room. He gave Billy one last lingering look before they could both be heard on the stairs. Victor turned to Jake once they were gone.

 

“Officer Downs,” and he held out a hand, “thank you for bringing Billy home.”

 

“Billy, can I come closer?” Rosa asked. She was calm, calmer than Billy would have guessed. He shrugged, and she took a step. “Can I hold your hand?” Billy frowned, confused.

 

“Why?”

 

“I just need to feel that you’re here,” she said with a little smile. “I was…very scared.”

 

Billy obligingly stuck his hand out and Rosa’s smaller hand squeezed it. He hated the flash of comfort that he took from the gesture. _You don’t deserve it._

 

“Can you tell us what happened, Billy? Who hit you?”

 

He remembered Lou sitting on him, remembered seeing the fist coming at him, remembered that the power of Shazam was on the tip of his tongue but not an option unless he wanted a charred thug lying dead in the alley. He remembered Jimmy sneering at him, remembered the silver blade in his hand, the evil look in his eye. He looked at Victor.

 

“Didn’t see ‘em.”

-

-

-

Billy gingerly pulled his shirt over his head, wincing when the material caught on the numerous cuts and scrapes all over his body, his palms bearing the brunt of the trauma. Rosa had used her tweezers to pull a shard of glass from the middle of his left palm and watched him scrub his hands clean in the sink. She’d kissed the side of his head quickly, and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaving Billy alone. He needed a shower badly, skin reeking of garbage juice and sweat. He could taste dried blood on his tongue.

 

The water ran hot, and Billy kicked off his jeans and stepped under the spray, wincing when the water streamed down over his aching back, running in rivulets down his body and onto his legs, his scraped knees stinging under the flow. He ducked his head under the water, watching it run dark and swirl around the bottom of the tub, circling the drain before disappearing. Victor and Rosa had tried to coax him to tell Jake about Lou and Jimmy, but Billy didn’t. He was just tired, tired of what lay ahead, tired even though it hadn’t happened yet. They wanted to draw this process out, find witnesses, surveillance footage, and Billy just…didn’t. It was just a fight, he had argued. I hit them too.

 

Victor and Rosa had exchanged a look at that, and Billy had swallowed the guilt down, pushing it into the miserable pit in his stomach. They were so disappointed. He wasn’t worth this trouble. They didn’t need to say it out loud.

 

Before he left, Jake had given Billy a card, with his name and number at the police station. “Call me, if you need help with anything, or if you change your mind,” he had said to Billy at the door before he left. Of course he knew that Billy knew more than he was letting on; he was a cop. Once he was gone and Billy was left alone with Victor and Rosa, he had clammed up, a great lump in his throat making it impossible to talk, to ask _when do you want me gone?_

 

Rosa had brought him into the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and left. When she came back it was with painkillers and a clean cloth. She handed him a glass of water and a pill, which he swallowed gratefully. He found himself wondering if his injuries would still be there if he shifted into his superpowered self. He sat through Rosa cleaning his face, tutting when she saw the gash on the inside corner of his left eye, his face discoloured and swollen.

 

“Use lots of soap, to prevent infection,” she had said before leaving him to it after her fleeting kiss. Billy had torn open a new bar of soap, his fingernails digging into the soft bar, before scrubbing himself thoroughly, gritting his teeth when he rubbed over open cuts and scrapes, the soap stinging. When the first sob broke out of him, it was loud, louder than he would have thought, and he slapped a soapy hand over his mouth. His last night in the Vasquez house shouldn’t be spent bawling in the shower. His heart twisted, and he screwed his eyes shut tight, and imagined: no more dinners crowded around the table, everyone talking over each other; no more nights spent talking with Freddy, each hushing the other whenever they thought they heard someone going down the hall; no more pretending to argue over what movie to watch and then agreeing with Darla every time.

 

That hopeful, flighty feeling of belonging was slipping through his fingers, and he muffled his cries into the back of his hand, hating that he had let himself get so close to these people, his ‘parents’ and ‘siblings’. He was going to miss them more than he should. He should have known better, months ago, than to learn to care about them, and let them care about him. He should have run, before they could have left him behind.

-

-

-

Billy trudged into his shared room, ears ringing from Rosa and Victor’s talk after his shower. He thought they were mad; they didn’t yell. He had scared them, being out so late, not having his phone with him, not wearing his helmet (Rosa had glared at him for that).

 

“ _We were afraid you had decided to leave us,” Victor admitted, squeezing Rosa’s hand_. “ _We know you’ve had a hard time with what happened with your mom, and—_ ”

 

_“It’s fine,” Billy interrupted with a shrug. “She didn’t want me. Can’t blame her for that.” Rosa made a sound in the back of her throat and an aborted movement, like she had been about to leap up and hug him._

_Victor considered him for a moment. “Would you like to talk about her?”_

_“No,” Billy said immediately. There was nothing to say he hadn’t already said; his mother didn’t want him, never had. The first chance she got, she dumped him. There was nothing else to say._

“Hey.” Billy startled at the half-whispered word, and glanced over to see Freddy peering at him from under a cocoon of blankets. “Dude, what the fuck happened?”

 

Billy shrugged. “You heard them, didn’t you.”

 

“Well yeah,” Freddy nodded, sitting up, “but I mean, _how._ You’re Captain Sparklefingers. Why didn’t you—” he made a downward stabbing motion with his hands—“you know. Shazooooom,” he waggled his fingers. Billy stared at him for a minute, and a sad thought occurred to him.

 

_I’m gonna miss you the most._ He turned quickly away from Freddy, turning off the small lamp on the desk and climbing to the top bunk. He laid gingerly down, his face and back both smarting from their hits, and settled for lying on his right side. He picked at the bandage wrapped around his left hand. Freddy was breathing steadily under him, and Billy could picture him glaring up at the bottom of his bunk bed, trying to figure everything out.

 

Some things aren’t meant to be figured out. Billy knew that. Why would his mom let him go so easily? _Because you’re a burden._ Why did a wizard pull him into an insane new life? _Dumb luck._

 

Why didn’t his mom remember the compass?

 

Just like in the shower, a sob escaped him before he could stop it, and he heard Freddy shift. “Billy?” His voice was quiet, almost afraid.

 

_I’m sorry I fucked up, Freddy,_ Billy didn’t say. _I’m sorry that you got to know me._ He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth, keeping his breaths quiet, even as his sight blurred and distorted. He had a cut on his top lip that burned with salt when tears ran over it. _You’re so pathetic_ , he snarled to himself. He bit his lip to keep his mouth shut, and angrily scrubbed at his damp eyes. _You’ll be_ fine. _You always are. You never needed anyone before, you don’t need anyone now._

 

“Hey, Billy.” Billy gritted his teeth and turned over, mindful of his back. Freddy was standing at the side of the bed, eyes just peeking over the edge. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Billy looked back at Freddy, at the first person he had giddily thought of as a brother, the first person, even before Victor and Rosa, that he had looked at and thought, _family._ He looked at Freddy, at the person who would be the worst to leave behind, and decided to get it over with.

 

“Fuck off, Freddy.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Billy woke up the next morning, he had a blissful moment where he didn’t remember why his face was sore, or why his stomach was in knots. He laid in bed, picking at the bandage on his left hand as the memories of yesterday flooded back. He groaned and sat up gingerly, his back aching as he moved. He scooted to the end of the bed to climb down and froze. Freddy was sitting at his desk, a textbook open in front of him, his head propped on one hand.

 

 _“Fuck off, Freddy.”_ Billy’s heart did an awkward stutter stop when he remembered what he’d said. _But it’s easier this way_ , he reminded himself. This way, Freddy wouldn’t miss him when he was shipped off to the next home.

 

“Mary made us eggs but they tasted like a rotten fart so I got you a granola bar,” Freddy said over his shoulder without looking. He shoved a wrapped granola bar to the corner of the desk. “And I think Vic and Rosa want to talk to you.”

 

Billy dropped to the floor and swallowed past the lump in his throat that came with the idea of getting the ‘so long and good luck’ talk with his foster parents so soon.

 

“They let you stay home from school today,” Freddy continued without seeming to care about Billy’s silence, “in case you hadn’t realized that it’s ten thirty and you aren’t in world history.”

 

A hundred nonchalant replies were on the tip of his tongue, but Billy spoke none of them. It would be so easy to fall back into his easy chatter with Freddy, to brush off his cuss last night as stress, as a joke, but that would just make it that much harder when it came time to leave. So Billy said nothing. He grabbed clean jeans and a t-shirt from his dresser, shucking his pajama shirt off, back turned to Freddy. He heard a low gasp.

 

“Holy shit, Billy, what happened?” Freddy asked. Billy turned quickly, arms already in his t-shirt. Freddy gestured at him. “Dude, your back is, like, blue. Do Vic and Rosa know about that?”

 

“It’s fine,” Billy snapped. He tugged his shirt over his head. “Don’t say anything,” he added as he stepped out of his sweatpants and into jeans.

 

“Well,” Freddy looked flustered, rolling a pen back and forth across the desktop, “what if you broke something? What if—oh!” His face lit up. “Do the Shazoom thing, it’ll get rid of it!”

 

Billy scoffed. “Yeah, and it’ll get rid of the bruises on my face too, and then your parents are going to wonder how the hell I healed so fast.”

 

Freddy made a face. “Oh, yeah. Wait,” he frowned, “every time I transform, my leg is a-okay, normalitis, but as soon as I shift back, I—” he stopped and stared at Billy. “What do you mean _my_ parents?” When Billy just shook his head and turned away, Freddy muttered, “they’re yours, too.”

 

“Whatever.” Billy ignored the granola bar on the edge of the desk and crossed to the door. He didn’t want to talk to Victor and Rosa, but he couldn’t stay in the room with Freddy. He had an insistent urge to tell Freddy everything, how scared he was of being sent away, how he couldn’t bear the thought of starting from scratch somewhere new. He had to keep it to himself. He had to stop treating Freddy like a brother because before long, he would be a stranger in the past.

 

“Billy—” Billy ignored the call and left the room, heading downstairs to bite the bullet and get sent away. He wondered if he should have packed his things first, brought them down with him, a way of saying ‘it’s okay, I get it, no hard feelings.’ But the house was empty. Billy wandered from room to room, seeing only empty couches and chairs, the kitchen quiet, a frying pan and cutlery next to the sink to be washed. He saw a note on top of something wrapped in foil on the kitchen table and drew nearer. His own name shouted at him from the note, and after a quick glance around, he took the note.

 

_Billy,_

_I called you off school today. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you could use a break. Call me when you get up if you like. I’m volunteering with Darla’s class today but I can leave anytime if you need me for_ anything _. I made you a breakfast burrito. Don’t tell Freddy, he can’t eat them right now so he got eggs for breakfast and I think he’s mad about that._

_I’ll see you after school._

_Rosa xxx_

A drop of water landed on the note over Rosa’s name, and Billy angrily scrubbed his eyes, hissing in pain when he roughly rubbed his tender nose and eye. _Stop being such a chick, Batson,_ he berated himself. But he couldn’t help folding the note and sticking it in his back pocket. A note from a mom. His mom, if he let her. He’d never had a note like that before. He tugged open the fridge, sticking his head inside, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The orange juice was mocking him. _Who cries over a note?_ Billy slammed the fridge shut, annoyed.

 

Freddy stood in the doorway, leaning on his crutch and frowning. “Dude, seriously, what the hell is going on? Why are you crying in the fridge?”

 

Billy balled his hands into fists and glared at Freddy. “What do you care? I’m _not_ ,” he insisted belatedly. Freddy raised a skeptical brow.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“What’s your problem?” Billy demanded, rounding on him. “Why are you up my ass? I thought I told you last night to fuck off.”

 

Freddy swallowed audibly but met Billy’s gaze steadily. “Okay, right there? That’s why I’m ‘up your ass’. Something is up with you and I’m trying to figure it out, okay?”

 

“It’s none of your business,” Billy snapped. He couldn’t sit in this house with Freddy all day, not knowing what was going to happen when Victor and Rosa came home, and he didn’t have to go to school, so… Mind made up, Billy pushed past Freddy, but the other boy spun with him as he passed, and Billy tripped over the crutch, stumbling forward but not falling. He caught himself and turned back to see Freddy on the floor, crutch kicked away. His heart lurched and he moved forward to help him stand, but then stopped. Freddy’s eyes widened as he stared at Billy in shock as instead of helping Freddy, Billy turned and walked away.

 

“Billy!” Billy hurried out the front door, feeling like a scumbag, and stopped on the front walkway. He knew he should go back in and help Freddy, even though he also knew Freddy would be able to get up—A sudden burst of lightning cracked through the sky, and Billy stared, dumbfounded, and then heard his name again, only this time it didn’t sound shocked or betrayed. It sounded _pissed._ “Billy!”

 

He spun around as Freddy came charging out of the house, eyes flashing, cape flying behind him. He didn’t slow down as he got closer, and Billy had to move. “Shazam!” he cried, and he was hit with the beautiful burst of power, his entire body tingling as he shot to over six feet tall in the fastest instance of puberty in history.

 

He took off, leaping into the air and willing himself to go higher, his flight kicking in and he shot through the sky. He glanced behind him to see Freddy right on his tail. Billy narrowed his eyes. They may have the same powers, but in all honesty, Billy knew how to use them better. Freddy had caught up quickly, helping Billy through his own awkward superpowered start a bonus, but he still fell short of Billy’s prowess.

 

Billy flew over the city, dipping and swerving, dodging Freddy. He didn’t know what Freddy thought he was going to do if he caught up with him, but better to not find out. They were approaching the industrial part of the city, factories scattered about below them, smokestacks belching grey smoke into the sky. Billy coughed when he flew through a dense cloud of smoke, grimacing at the horrible taste it left in his mouth, and he shot out into clear sky. He glanced behind him, and slowed, surprised to find no trace of Freddy. Had he given up already?

 

Billy turned back to face front and squawked when he nearly slammed into a hovering Freddy. He tried to dodge around him but Freddy was faster. He dove forward, locking an arm around Billy’s chest and pulling him down to the ground. Billy twisted to get out of his grip, but Freddy held fast. Billy could feel the ground fast approaching and still couldn’t escape. He looked at Freddy, saw the dark look in his eyes, and had a wild thought that he was about to be crushed into the earth.

 

Just as he was about to blast Freddy off, about to break his own code about not using his powers on any of his friends, he was jerked to a halt. He groaned when his head snapped back at the abrupt stop, but he was hovering a foot above the ground. Freddy let go and stood tall, leaving Billy to drop to the hot tar roof of some dilapidated building.

 

“Do you need help getting up, Billy?” Freddy asked, eyes flashing. “Why don’t I—oh, that’s right. We don’t help each other when we’ve fallen. I guess we don’t help each other when we’re the ones knocking each other down!”

 

Billy sat up, and Freddy paced away. He saw him angrily wipe at his face, but when he turned to face Billy again, the evidence was clear in his red-rimmed eyes.

 

“Look, man,” Freddy started, voice quavering slightly, “I don’t know what the _fuck_ your deal is. You’re freaking out about some stupid fight you had, and you turn around and treat me like I’m the asshole who beat on you. You—” he stopped, shaking his head, and Billy’s heart clenched painfully when Freddy’s chin quivered. “You were just going to leave me there.”

 

“Freddy—” Billy tried, but Freddy whirled on him.

 

“Brothers don’t treat each other like that! You’re not supposed to be the one who knocks me down, you’re supposed to be the one who helps me up and then kicks the ass of whoever knocked me down in the first place.”

 

Billy leaned away, ashamed. Freddy looked huge, intimidating from where Billy sat, so he stood slowly. They watched each other for a minute in silence, the foul-smelling wind whipping around them, Freddy struggling to steady his harsh breathing.

 

“Billy,” Freddy sounded wrecked, “just tell me, _please_ , what’s going on with you. You’re really freaking me out, man.”

 

Billy chewed his lip, heart pounding. He had to be mean to Freddy, had to brutally cut all ties, step on the memories they shared over the last few months, from living in the Vasquez house to going to school together, and all of the Shazam business between that. But seeing Freddy here, now, Billy’s resolve crumbled.

 

“They’re getting rid of me,” he said softly. Freddy heard him anyway, and frowned, moving closer.

 

“Who is?”

 

“Victor and R-rosa,” Billy shook his head. “I know it’s coming.”

 

“What do you mean? Did they say someth—no,” Freddy cut himself off, “there’s no way they’d ever get rid of you. They don’t do that, Billy.”

 

“Everyone does!” Billy cried, clenching his shaking fists at his side. “No family is going to keep some, some pain in the ass _foster_ kid,” he spat.

 

“Billy,” Freddy looked sad, “they would never send you away. They don’t do that,” he repeated.

 

“What do you know about it?” Billy snapped. “You just came to Victor and Rosa. You only know the happy family bullshit.”

 

“Why do you think I’m not with my own parents to begin with?” Freddy asked quietly. “Do you think it’s easy, raising a disabled kid? Huh? You think any parent hopes their kid can’t fucking walk without a crutch by his eighth birthday?” Freddy strode over to Billy, getting close, staring him down. “They ignored me. They _hated_ me, for being this crippled freak. One of my neighbours called child protective services about it, and you know what my file says? ‘Severe neglect’,” Freddy’s voice cracked and he looked away from Billy. “Because I was in an accident, and my parents couldn’t deal. So they took me away, and yeah, I landed with Vic and Rosa first, and I know how lucky I am for them finding me, but I also know what it’s like to be thrown away by your parents _just_ cause you’re you.”

 

Billy stared at Freddy, dumbstruck. “I…I didn’t know that.”

 

Freddy snorted. “It’s not exactly a talking point, is it,” he muttered. He turned fierce eyes back on Billy. “So, if you think I can’t understand a fucked-up situation when I see one, you’re wrong. And if you think _our_ parents would ditch you cause of some stupid fight, then you really haven’t been paying attention these last few months.”

 

“Everyone else did,” Billy muttered. He walked to the edge of the roof and sat down, staring blankly ahead. “I think the longest I stayed with a family before now was three months.”

 

Freddy came and sat next to him, his thigh pressing against Billy’s. “I thought you ran away from a bunch of them.”

 

Billy snorted. “Yeah, but only ‘cause I knew what was coming. After the first few times, you start to recognize the signs.”

 

“Signs?”

 

Billy nodded. “They stop calling you by your name. They just say _hey_ to get your attention. They stop asking about school. They stop trying to get you to talk to them, to tell them how you’re feeling. And then your caseworker is coming over and telling you to pack your things, that there’s a wonderful new family that is just dying for a son…and sooner or later, that new family stops calling you by your name, stops c-caring,” Billy cut off, eyes watering, chest heaving. “After a while, you get tired of being passed around, so you learn to leave first.”

 

“Billy—”

 

“Only sometimes you aren’t fast enough,” Billy continued in a rush, “and they leave you behind first. Sometimes it’s your mother losing you at a carnival and not caring because you were never supposed to happen anyway. And sometimes it doesn’t matter that you held onto a bullshit, rose tinted memory of her for ten years, because when you see her, all she says is she never wanted you.” His voice broke. “And the one, _stupid_ thing you had to remember her by, sh-she doesn’t even remember—” he remembered her confusion, _what is that_ , staring at the compass like it had just shit on her welcome mat. He buried his face in his hands, trying in vain to hide the fact that he was sobbing. He dimly registered being pulled against a solid frame, a hand on his back, rubbing awkward, soothing circles.

 

“Before Vic, before Rosa and me and Darla and, and _everyone_ , no one loved you the right way, Billy,” Freddy’s voice cut through his misery. “But you’re with us now, for life. None of us are going away, not even if you want us to.”

 

“I keep screwing everything up,” Billy gasped. “My own mom didn’t want me, why would some strangers just decide to step up and care?”

 

“Because,” Freddy’s voice was steady, confident, “there actually are good people in the world. Sometimes you have to wade through shit to find them.” He nudged against Billy. “Hope you’re wearing rubber boots.”

 

Billy snorted and pulled away, sniffing hugely, wiping his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last twelve hours.

 

“Billy.” Freddy’s voice was quiet again, timid. Billy grunted in acknowledgement. “Did you…” he trailed off, hesitant.

 

“Did I what?” Billy prompted.

 

“Did you mean it, when you told me to fuck off?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Billy swore. He clumsily reached out and grabbed Freddy’s hand. “God, Freddy, I’m sorry I said that. I was such a dick, I thought it would be easier to leave if you hated me—”

 

Freddy huffed a laugh. “I could never hate you, Billy. You taught me to fly.”

-

-

-

They got back home before anyone was home from school or work, flying low through their neighbourhood, trying to be as inconspicuous as two superpowered people could be. They landed in the backyard and shifted back, exchanging a sigh of relief when they realized they hadn’t been seen. Billy’s face was immediately sore, his back stiff. Freddy winced in sympathy when he saw the dark bruises come back to life on Billy’s face.

 

“Shit sucks,” Freddy said as he hobbled back into the house, one arm wrapped around Billy’s shoulder. “Why can’t we keep the super healing even when we aren’t all sparkly?” Billy ducked down to grab Freddy’s crutch, the image of Freddy slouched on the ground and staring at him, wide-eyed with betrayal burned into his mind.

 

“Magic?” Billy suggested lamely. Freddy chuckled.

 

“Not exactly Harry Potter, is it?” Billy shrugged.

 

“I’ve never read the books. I’m surprised _you_ have,” he added. “They’re not even a comic.”

 

“Okay, first of all: there’s a graphic novel series based on the books, and second of all, I am fully capable of liking things besides comics.” He coughed, sharp and short, making a face. “That was what I was going to spend today doing. I watched the first three movies yesterday before anyone got home.”

 

Billy paused. “So is it the kind of series you need to see from the start for it to make sense?”

 

Freddy beamed at him, crutch tucked under his arm. “Yes, but the Philosopher’s Stone is my favourite movie.”

 

Ten minutes later found the two of them on the couch in the living room, the haunting music of the first Harry Potter movie mesmerizing Billy instantly. They were cocooned in a nest of water and snacks, and by the time Rosa got home, Billy was yelling at the devil’s snare and bemoaning to Freddy the utter dismissal of Hermione by Ron.

 

“You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves,” Rosa smiled at them. She came over, staying out of view of the television, and kissed the top of Freddy’s head. She looked at Billy, hopeful, and he stood and gave her a quick hug, surprising them both.

 

“Thank you,” he said softly. Rosa pulled back when he did, and ran her fingers through his hair.

 

“Anytime. I mean it,” she said, voice low. Freddy was gracious enough to pretend he couldn’t hear them over the movie. She smoothed his bangs back and studied his face critically. “Looks like it’s healing nicely.”

 

Billy nodded, but any answer was cut off when Darla suddenly launched herself at him, thin arms encircling his midriff. “Billy! I’m so glad you’re okay, me and Louie were scared—”

 

“I’m all right, Darla,” Billy told her, as he grinned at Freddy. “You can tell Louie he can rest easy tonight.”

 

“I gotta go feed him!” Darla gasped, and she pushed away from Billy, pausing only to give Freddy a quick hug before dashing off.

 

“Is Louie staying?” Freddy asked Rosa without looking away from the giant game of wizard’s chess playing out on the screen before him. Rosa sighed and threw her hands up.

 

“Unless he has an owner who calls us, yes.” Freddy chuckled.

 

“Darla won, then.” Rosa frowned.

 

“What do you mean she ‘won’?”

 

Freddy sighed and paused the movie. “She bet us that Louie would be living here. Guess she was right.”

 

“Well,” Rosa seemed flustered, “that’s just, just Darla,” she settled on. Billy muffled a laugh behind his hands and Rosa rolled her eyes. “My life is run by an eight-year-old, isn’t it?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Freddy said, patting her hand, “we’re all in the same boat.”

-

-

-

Dinner that night was…the best, to put it bluntly. Billy and Freddy sat next to each other, and by the end of the meal Billy’s face was aching from how big he was smiling. _They’re not going to kick you out,_ he told himself as he looked around at the happy family. _You’re here to stay._

 

He left the table early, following Freddy up to their room to work on their homework from the day. Darla was disappointed about not going for a bike ride but had just smiled at Billy. “ _It’s okay, I want to spend time with Louie anyway!”_ When Billy looked down at her and thought, _God I love her,_ he didn’t run from the feeling like he was wont to do. Instead he let it fill him like a balloon, bursting at his insides to be free, to show off to everyone. _I have an adorable sister._

Freddy was messing around instead of concentrating on his homework, making Billy laugh when he balanced a pencil on his forehead, and yelling _I’ve never done that before!_ when it stayed standing for more than a second. The night was a blur, filling Billy with a happiness he hadn’t let himself fully appreciate since…since ever.

 

 _I belong,_ he thought giddily, and it was enough to buoy him through the drudgery of homework. Before long, it was time for lights out. Their parents (Billy tentatively thought of them as and smiled when it felt right) came up to tell them goodnight and not to forget to brush their teeth. They thought they would all go to the aquarium tomorrow, seeing as it was a Saturday and they all needed to decompress from the week.

 

Billy settled in his bed in a much better mindset than the night before. He whispered back and forth with Freddy until his eyes were too heavy to keep open and Freddy’s responses were few and far between. Sometime in the middle of the night Billy jerked awake, and he lay, tense in his bunk, straining to hear what had woken him.

 

“Freddy?” he barely breathed. All he got was an answering snore. Billy rolled over, his mind wandering. It still felt like he was walking on tenterhooks. He wished he could just accept the offer of family from Rosa and Victor at face value. But, he felt like he could see the day that he would be able to, and it was closer than he thought. He sighed and sat up, one hand moving absently to his throat. There was an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his throat that wouldn’t stop no matter how many times he cleared it. He jumped lightly off his bed, tiptoeing to the door and out into the hall, creeping down the hall to the stairs, heading for the kitchen and a glass of water.

 

Muted voices floated up to him from downstairs and Billy paused on the stairs. Victor and Rosa were talking in hushed tones, but Billy could hear them from the middle of the staircase.

 

“—if he’s going to be mean, violent, he can’t stay here,” Victor murmured. Rosa sighed.

 

“I know, but…” she trailed off. Billy’s heart thumped erratically. They were talking about _him._

 

“The kids will be fine,” Victor assured her. “He’s barely been here, they won’t even notice him gone.”

 

“But Darla,” Rosa protested. Billy heard a chair scrape across the floor, heard Victor’s comforting voice.

 

“I know she loves him already, but, she’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl, she knew this could happen.”

 

“Ugh,” Rosa groaned. “I wish it wasn’t so hard. I was starting to love him, too.”

 

Any further conversation was lost, muffled. Billy went back up the stairs mechanically, mouth slightly parted as he breathed shallowly. After all that, all the talks and reassurances, they were _still_ getting rid of him? Was the dinner a lie? Were they only happy because they knew Billy would soon be gone?

 

“Fuck this,” he swore to himself, and hurried along the hall, back to his bedroom. Once inside he yanked his bag off of the desk chair and crossed to his dresser, shoving clothes haphazardly into it. He paused when, under a sloppily folded t-shirt, his hand met the notebook he had kept to find his mother. Just another reminder of yet another person who didn’t want him. He sneered down at it and chucked it into the garbage can, where this time, it would stay. He grabbed his last sweater from the closet and shrugged it on, zipping it up to right under his chin, catching his skin in the sharp zipper. He swore under his breath, fighting back the urge to scream, to rail against the unfairness of it all.

 

He was stupid, he had been naïve, thinking everything could be solved, forgotten, forgiven. No matter who he was, he wasn’t worth the struggle that apparently came with raising him. He had screwed up, again, and was paying the price, again. That was his lot in life.

 

Billy crossed the room to the window and pushed it open. He didn’t look at Freddy, knowing he would grow weak again. He dropped his stuffed backpack to the ground outside, and swallowed with a dry mouth. This was it. He perched on the windowsill, and against common sense, he turned to look at Freddy, who was sat up in bed, watching him sadly.

 

“You don’t have to go, Billy,” Freddy said, desperate. “We talked about this, you saw them, they’re cool about everything, just—” his voice cracked. “Just don’t leave me. Please.”

 

Billy hopped off the windowsill and crossed the room quickly. He crouched in front of Freddy, laying a tentative hand on either shoulder. “No matter what,” he said in a low voice, “you’re my brother.” He leaned forward and hugged Freddy, a quick, tight thing, pulling back before Freddy had a chance to raise his arms. “Don’t say anything,” he begged.

 

Freddy watched him cross back to the window, eyes shining bright. “Mom. Dad!”

 

Billy smiled at him, a sad twist of his lips. He imprinted the image of Freddy in his mind, and leaned out the window, and jumped.

 

_“Shazam.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS WRONG this is going to be a three parter. So one more chapter after this unless I'm wrong again. And that's all I have to say about that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited a tiny bit in the second chapter, mainly Rosa and Victor's conversation. You don't have to read it again to follow this chapter, though.

Darla woke up early so she could spend more time with Louie before school. She jumped out of bed and opened her closet. Louie looked back at her sleepily, and meowed.

 

“Good morning, Louie!” Darla squealed. He was the _cutest_ cat she had ever seen. She made a face at the small litter box in the corner of the closet. “I have to tell Daddy that you _do_ know how to use a litter box, and maybe you can sleep on my bed!” She turned off the small light in the closet and lifted Louie from his bed of pillows and blankets, carrying him over to her bed. “Would you like your fur brushed?” Louie purred and rolled onto his back. She giggled. “That’s a yes!”

 

She grabbed the small brush she used for her doll’s hair. She knew they didn’t mind her using it to brush Louie; they all liked him, too. She started to brush Louie’s fur. He rolled onto his stomach when the small teeth got caught in a tangle on his back. “Hold still, Louie,” Darla said, reaching with her other hand to try to pull the brush out of his fur. Quick as a flash, Louie yowled and spun around, sinking his teeth into her wrist. Darla cried out and yanked her hand away, tears springing to her eyes as she looked down at the bite marks. “Louie!” she cried, sniffling. That _hurt_ a lot. Louie was on the bed, ears flat against his head, his tail twitching.

 

“Darla? Are you all right?”

 

Darla gasped when she heard her mom’s voice from downstairs. She couldn’t let her know what Louie had done or they would want to get rid of him for sure. “Yeah, mom, just playing with Louie,” she called back, fighting to keep her voice even.

 

“Well, it’s time for breakfast so come down, please.”

 

“Okay,” Darla said. She looked down at the blood on her wrist. There wasn’t a lot of it, but it really hurt. She held her wrist with her other hand and frowned at Louie. “I know it was an accident but I’m still upset. But I won’t tell mom or dad.” She left Louie on the bed, and hurried to the bathroom to wash her wrist, biting her lip when the soap stung the bite. She dried it carefully and took a band-aid from the box under the sink. Satisfied with her first aid job, she went back to her room to get dressed, and chose a long-sleeved shirt that hung over her wrists. There! Now no one would be able to see the band-aid.

 

Down in the kitchen, Mary was standing at the stove, watching something in the frying pan, holding a spatula. Darla went up behind her and hugged her. “Good morning, Mary.” Her older sister smiled down at her, and wrapped one arm around Darla’s shoulder.

 

“Morning, Darla. Would you like some eggs?”

 

“Yes please!” Darla said, and took her seat at the kitchen table. Dad was sitting with a cup of coffee in front of him, looking worried. “Hi, daddy.”

 

“Good morning, princess,” he smiled at her. But right away he looked worried again.

 

“What’s the matter?” Darla asked. Dad sighed as mom came into the kitchen, Freddy and Eugene right behind her.

 

“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I’m just lost in thought.”

 

Darla frowned, puzzled, as Mary brought over a plate of fried eggs and put it in front of her. “What does ‘lost in thought’ mean?”

 

“It means I’m thinking too much,” Dad said with a grin. Mom squeezed his neck as she passed behind his chair. Freddy dropped into the seat next to Darla and leaned his crutch against the table.

 

“Good morning, Freddy!” Darla said brightly.

 

“Morning,” Freddy muttered.

 

“Are you still feeling sick?” Darla asked him. Usually Freddy was much cheerier in the mornings. He just shrugged and picked up his fork when Mary put his eggs in front of him. Darla sighed to herself as she began to eat. It seemed like everyone was being funny today, and not in the ha-ha way. “Where’s Billy?” she asked when she realized her newest brother wasn’t at the table with them. Freddy angrily stabbed his fork into his eggs and didn’t answer. “Mom?”

 

“Billy…” Mom trailed off and exchanged a look with Dad. “Billy got in some trouble last night, Darla. He’s staying home today.”

 

“Oh no,” Darla said, putting her fork down. “What kind of trouble?”

 

Mom looked like she didn’t know what to say, so Dad answered. “He got in a fight last night while he was out. He’s okay,” he added quickly when Darla looked scared. “We’re just letting him sleep it off today.”

 

“Are you mad at him?” she asked nervously. Dad and Mom both shook their heads.

 

“Of course not,” Mom assured her. “It wasn’t his fault.” Freddy scoffed and shoved his chair away from the table.

 

“You know, I still don’t feel so hot, and these eggs taste like a chicken took a dump in my mouth, so—”

 

“Freddy!” Dad admonished. “Don’t say that about your sister’s eggs.” He reached over and popped a bite of egg in his mouth and chewed. “They don’t—” he stopped chewing, everyone watching him. He swallowed and smiled in a way that made him look like he had just stepped on a thumbtack. “They’re great. But you may as well stay home again, I heard you coughing in the night,” he added. Freddy got up and grabbed his crutch, and went into the living room.

 

“No TV!” Mom called after him. “I know you didn’t finish your homework last night.” A sullen silence was her only answer. She sighed and smiled down at Darla. “Eat your eggs, sweetheart. Remember I’m coming to class with you today?”

 

“Yep!” Darla nodded happily. She resumed eating, and leaned over to Mary. “I don’t think the eggs taste like a chicken took a dump in my mouth.”

 

Mary looked like she wanted to laugh but kept it in. “Thank you, Darla,” and then a little louder, “at least _someone_ appreciates my cooking.”

 

“Can I go say bye to Billy before we leave?” Darla asked her mom, drinking her orange juice. Mom shook her head.

 

“Let’s just let him sleep, okay? You can see him when you get home.”

 

Darla nodded and very carefully scratched at her wrist when it itched. She would have to be careful with it all day.

 

“Hey, Mom?”

 

“Yes, Darla?”

 

“If Billy and Freddy are both staying home today, can Louie walk around the house instead of staying in my room? They can look after him.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Mom said. “Neither of them are going to feel up to following a cat around all day, making sure he doesn’t poop on the floor or claw the furniture. But, how about this: we’ll set up the sunroom for him, so he can look outside all day and run around the whole room. Does that sound good?”

 

Darla nodded and remembered the word Mrs. Atkins had taught them in spelling last week. “That’s a good compromise!”

-

-

-

Darla was very excited to get home after school. She was already in bed last night when everything with Billy had happened. Mom said that he was okay but Darla had to see for herself. She almost said the S-word so she could run home faster but remembered that she promised not to tell anyone what she could do. Not even Mom and Dad. It was hard to keep it a secret but it helped that all her brothers and sister shared the same secret. Darla didn’t like when someone kept a secret, because it meant excluding someone, but this was something they all had together, so it was easier.

 

Mom asked Darla to let her talk to Billy first, so Darla waited in the front hall, bouncing in place, listening to the low conversation from the living room. She reached her breaking point and dashed in, squeezing between Mom and Billy to throw her arms around his waist. “Billy! I’m so glad you’re okay, me and Louie were scared—”

 

“I’m all right, Darla,” Billy said, and he put his arms around her shoulders. “You can tell Louie he can rest easy tonight.”

 

“I gotta go feed him!” Darla realized with a gasp. She pushed away from Billy, stopped to give Freddy a quick hug, and ran to the kitchen and filled a bowl with the cat food Dad bought to bring to Louie. She knocked on the sunroom door. “Louie? Are you awake?”

 

There was an eager meow from behind the door, and Darla opened it slowly, making sure she wasn’t going to hit Louie. He came jumping down from the table by the window that looked out into the backyard. “Hi, Louie!” She set the bowl down on the floor by his water and picked him up. He nuzzled into her neck and she sighed happily. “I missed you at school.” He twisted and jumped lightly from her arms, sticking his face in his food bowl, the sounds of crunching filling the room. The litter box under the window needed to be cleaned, and Darla was very happy about that. “You _do_ know where your bathroom is!” she said to Louie, giving him a happy scrub behind the ears. “I bet you’ll be allowed to walk around the whole house now. Just as long as you promise not to claw the couches.”

 

Darla went back into the kitchen to get a plastic bag and scoop to clean the litter box. Eugene was sitting at the table, eating a granola bar and reading a glossy book. “Hi, Eugene!” Darla said brightly as she grabbed the scoop from beside the broom by the garbage can. “Guess what, Louie is pooping in his litterbox!”

 

Eugene made a face. “I don’t need a live update of what Louie is doing all the time, Darla.” She giggled.

 

“ _No,_ silly, not right now. I mean he’s using the bathroom like he’s supposed to, so I can ask mom and dad if he can run around the house!” She hurried back into the sunroom, and saw Louie sitting in the middle of the floor, washing his face. After she cleaned the litterbox and washed her hands, she sat in front of him on the floor.

 

“I want to tell you that I forgive you for this morning, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough with the brush. Can you forgive me?” She held a hand out to Louie, and he stuck his nose out to sniff at it, then bumped against it. She giggled. “Thanks, Louie!” She stroked his head and scratched behind his ears the way he liked, and he started purring.

 

She picked Louie up and walked him over to the window. “See that bush right there?” she asked, pointing his paw out the window. “That’s where I first saw you!” Louie yawned and wriggled out of her grip. Darla watched the robins flit from treetop to treetop, glad that spring was finally here. When she transformed into her Big self, she liked to follow birds around, even though they didn’t let her get too close.

 

“Darla! Time for supper!” Darla sighed when her mom called her in.

 

“Okay mister, you finish your dinner and I’ll come get you when I’m done mine.” She patted Louie on the head and skipped into the house, shutting the door to the sunroom behind her.

-

-

-

“Oy,” Rosa sighed as she dropped onto the couch next to Victor. He wordlessly handed her a bottle of beer, and they kissed before clinking them together.

 

“Another whirlwind of a day,” he mused as Rosa settled against him. She nodded, picking at the label on her bottle. “Something wrong, hun?”

 

“I’m worried about Billy,” she admitted. Victor sighed and set his beer on the small table next to the couch.

 

“I am, too. You go first.”

 

“He’s still so…reticent. Every now and then I think we’re making progress, he’s participating in our family activities, and then suddenly he just pulls back.” She took a drink, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Is it just being part of a family that’s scaring him?”

 

“You remember what his caseworker told us. He’s never gotten close to any family that’s taken him in. He’s refused all of them, he’s never stopped looking for his mom.”

 

Rosa grit her teeth, a bubble of rage rising inside her. “That _woman,_ I can’t even—”

 

“I know,” Victor soothed. “But remember: we never know someone else’s situation. We faced a lot of judgement growing up. And we don’t know the whole story with his mom.”

 

“You’re too quick to believe the best of someone,” Rosa sighed. “That’s why I love you. I need you for that.”

 

“Among other things?” he asked, voice teasing. He kissed the side of her neck, and she pressed against him, reaching up to caress his hair.  A loud cry broke them apart and sent them to their feet.

 

“Was that—”

 

“Darla,” Victor nodded. They hurried up the stairs and into Darla’s room. She was huddled on the corner of her bed under the window, crying into her nightgown. Rosa’s heart stopped when she lifted her head and there was blood on the front of her pajamas.

 

“Darla! What happened, are you all right?” Rosa rushed over to her and gently tipped her head back. There were bloody claw marks over her collarbone. “What happened?”

 

Victor picked Louie up from where he sat on the floor. “Bad cat,” he told Louie. He shut him in the closet and turned to Darla. “Oh, honey, we have to get those cleaned up.” Darla was crying softly as he picked her up and carried her down the hall to their en suite. “What did Louie do, huh?” he asked, sitting her on the counter and moving her nightgown out of the way.

 

  
“I-I don’t know what I did,” Darla sobbed as Rosa approached with a warm washcloth. “I was just patting him and he just hit me, it wasn’t like this morning—”

 

“What do you mean, it wasn’t like this morning?” Victor asked, raising his brows at Rosa, who was carefully washing Darla’s skin clean. “Darla?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything.

 

“Sweetheart? Has Louie clawed you before?”

 

Darla shook her head, and slowly raised her right arm, tugging the sleeve of her nightgown up. A band-aid was on her wrist. “He bit me this morning when I was trying to brush him.”

 

“Oh, honey,” Victor frowned down at her thin wrist. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“I didn’t want you to be mad at him and get rid of him,” she whispered, sniffing miserably.

 

“Darla, you know you need to tell us if you ever get hurt. We can’t help you if you don’t.”

 

She bit her lip and nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, daddy, I just love Louie.”

 

“Listen,” Rosa said, smoothing Darla’s hair back from her face, “how about daddy puts Louie back in the sunroom for the night, and we can talk about this in the morning, okay?” She hugged Darla, mindful of her claw marks, and stood. “I’ll bring you back to bed and sit with you until you fall asleep.” She picked Darla up and carried her down the hall, staying to the side while Victor grabbed Louie and brought him downstairs. “Remember, we’re all going to go to the aquarium tomorrow. You can see the sea turtles like you love to do.”

 

“Is Billy going to come, too?” Darla asked as Rosa pulled the blanket up to her chin.

 

“Of course, he is,” Rosa smiled at her. “It’s a family trip.”

-

-

-

Rosa met Victor down in the kitchen. He was pacing like he always did when upset. “I knew it was a bad idea to keep that cat,” he started but Rosa quickly shushed him.

 

“She’s only just fallen back asleep,” she said quietly. He cast a guilty look upwards and sat in a chair at the table.

 

“We can’t keep him,” he said softly. “If he’s going to be mean, violent, he can’t stay here.”

 

Rosa sighed, the idea of taking the cat away from Darla an unhappy one. “I know, but…”

 

“The kids will be fine,” Victor promised her. “He’s barely been here, they won’t even notice him gone.”

 

“But Darla—” Victor stood and approached her, putting his arms around her.

 

“I know she loves him already, but, she’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl, she knew this could happen.”

 

Rosa laid her head on his shoulder. “Ugh. I wish it wasn’t so hard. I was starting to love him, too.”

 

“I know,” Victor said, squeezing her tight. They stood like that for a minute, the ticking of the kitchen clock the only sound in the house.

 

Until, that is, a voice called out.

 

“Mom. Dad!”

 

For the second time that night, they raced up the stairs, this time to Billy and Freddy’s room. Freddy was sitting up in bed, grabbing for his crutch.

 

“Freddy, honey, what is it?” Rosa asked, dropping to kneel in front of him.

 

“Where’s Billy?” Victor asked at the same time, staring at the empty top bunk. Freddy shook his head, upset.

 

“He just _left_ , he went out the window—” Victor tore over to the open window and looked down. Rosa’s heart pounded but she breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled his head back in.

 

“No sign of him,” Victor said. “I’m going to go see if I can catch up to him, he can’t have gone far—” with that, he dashed out of the room.

 

“Why would he leave?” Freddy asked in a small voice, twisting his blanket between his hands. Rosa shook her head as she sat on the bed next to him, an arm around his shoulder, at a loss for words. “He was _fine_ before we went to sleep, I woke up when he came back into the room and he just threw his stuff in a bag and left—”

 

“When did he leave the room?” Rosa asked, frowning. Freddy shrugged.

 

“I don’t know when, but he just came back in like two minutes ago. He looked really upset.”

 

“Two minutes…” Rosa trailed off. She thought back to her conversation with Victor in the kitchen, thought back to the faint sounds of the house settling, what she had _thought_ was just that, never imagining it was a teenage boy eavesdropping.

 

_“If he’s going to be mean, violent, he can’t stay here.”_

_“I know, but…”_

Rosa cursed.

-

-

-

If anyone were to ask Billy why he chose the roof of his mom’s apartment building to hide on, he wouldn’t be able to give them an answer. He had flown away from his house in a hurt daze, mind reeling from his foster parent’s words. He’d tried believing Freddy, tried to tell himself of course they didn’t mean it, it was all a misunderstanding, but it never was a misunderstanding. Everyone was always glad to be rid of him, either because he got in fights or caused trouble at home or just kept running away.

 

Billy wished he had x-ray vision, so he could look down into his mom’s apartment and see what she was doing. _“I just wanted to let you know I’m doing good, so…”_ That had been the biggest lie he’d ever told in his life. He wanted so much more than that. He wanted her to hug him tight, tell him how sorry she was they had ever been separated, tell him she had been looking for him all those years too, and never gave up hope.

 

Instead she backed away from him when he tried to hug her. She told him the ugly truth while some foul-tempered man barked at her from inside. She stared at the compass with zero recollection. She looked at Billy like he was a stranger.

 

 _I’m your son!_ He’d wanted to scream at her. _I’m your son and you’re my mom. Why can’t that be good enough?_

It would never be good enough. Billy knew that now. He hadn’t known that when he was four, and he hadn’t ever thought it over the years as he bounced from home to home, sometimes leaving by choice, sometimes by force. No matter his departures, he was never welcome back. And in all those tumultuous years, he had held onto the compass. Pathetic.

 

 _Maybe_ , said that voice inside his head, _maybe she just needed more time. After all, you were gone for ten years and you just_ showed up. _Maybe she wasn’t ready for that._

_Maybe she is now._

Billy scoffed and wedged himself further into the corner of the roof he sat in. As if she cared after a few months had passed. Like there was a switch that suddenly flipped and she spent her time with her eye pressed to the peephole of her apartment, hoping her son would come striding down the hall again and give her another chance.

 

 _You never know,_ the voice said, mocking. _You don’t really know anything about her, do you? You were wrong before. Maybe you’re wrong now._

 

Billy jumped to his feet, leaving his backpack in the corner as he circled the roof, a sharp wind lifting his cape and blowing chilly air across his shoulders. He hated that he couldn’t quite let go of her, hated that he had spent more time than he’d like to admit imagining their first meeting going a different way, imagining bumping into her on the street and her being the one to approach him, to pull him into a hug, to kiss his head and tell him how sorry she was, he had just startled her the first time, and she was ready to try again, if he would.

 

And Billy knew: he would. He would in a heartbeat. He couldn’t just disregard ten years of searching because of one bad reunion. It could be different.

 

Or it could be worse.

 

“All right, Batson,” he said to himself, stopping his pacing and glaring out over the city. “You’re on your own. You can do what you want, when you want. So, what do you want?” He closed his eyes.

 

Freddy’s face flashed in his head, laughing at something in their room. Mary smiled at him from the couch as he crossed in front of her. Eugene, having a fit over one of his games. Pedro, wordlessly handing him a CD and giving him a fist bump. Darla, wrapped around his middle and beaming up at him. Victor and Rosa, dancing in the kitchen and kissing each other loudly to make the kids groan and cover their eyes.

 

His mom, smiling at him as she pushed him on a swing, laughing while they went down a slide together, rolling around on the floor with him, socks on her hands.

 

Billy opened his eyes, and he ached with one word. _Family_.

 

But he was disposable. He came with a number and a case file, and it was easy to hand those off to someone else, easy to forget that that number represented a human, that case file was someone’s life.

 

The difference with his mother, she had lost him. She could have found him, _did_ find him, sitting with the police officer, and she walked away. She wasn’t ready to be a mom.

 

But Billy wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t need her the way he had when he was four. He could take care of himself. He didn’t need her to win him a stuffed tiger.

 

Hell, he didn’t even have to live with her. When he was in Shazam form, he was an adult. He could provide for himself. Maybe, if she knew that—

 

His heart quickened at the thought. What if her son was all grown up? What if _he_ could help _her_? Maybe she would be ready then. Maybe it wouldn’t be so overwhelming, having her son come home.

 

He wanted to see her. He could make things right. He excitedly started for the door to the stairwell, but slowed once he touched the doorknob and frowned. Maybe going to see her in her apartment again would be too much. Last time he had crowded her, just barged into her life without even asking.

 

 _“I’m already late for work.”_ When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could see the scene perfectly: his mom, in her doorway, tired, her red shirt hanging off her, and in tiny white embroidery over her heart: Fawcett Grocery.

 

Billy’s eyes snapped open. He knew where that was.

-

-

-

 

To Shazam, or not to Shazam? That was the question.

 

Billy paced in front of the grocery store, the early morning mist making his hair damp. He had seen his mom hurry into the store almost an hour ago, from where he hid behind a parked car, trying to look inconspicuous in his flame red suit and white cape. He didn’t know if he should approach her as Billy or as…well, whatever name he was actually using. Even the press didn’t seem to know how to refer to him.

 

“Okay,” he said to himself, his heart fluttering. “Going in as yourself, eh, didn’t work out so well the first time. Going in as—” he glanced at his reflection in the glossy side of the car— “might work better.”

 

Mind made up, he threw his shoulders back and strode into the grocery store. The automatic doors whooshed shut behind him. He surveyed the store, trying to be subtle in finding where his mom was. She could be a cashier or a stocker or work in the back. He decided to try aisle by aisle and stepped forward. He was immediately jerked back and he spun, arms twisting to face his attacker.

 

Oh.

 

His cape was stuck in the doors.

 

“This is why Edna says no capes!” he grumbled to himself, waving his hand in front of the sensor to open the doors and free himself. He brushed himself off, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed. A kid, couldn’t be older than ten, stood beside a stacked display of pineapples, phone held out in front of him.

 

“Hey Red Cyclone! Don’t ya know that’s why Edna says no capes?”

 

Billy waved him off, face burning, and hurried into the store. He glanced at the check-out lanes and didn’t see his mom standing at any of them. Maybe she was stocking shelves? He made his way down the dry spice aisle, absentmindedly wondering what wet spices would be like, trying to keep his mind off of what he was about to do, when all of a sudden, he turned the corner and there she was, crouched in front of a shelf of soups and canned vegetables. He caught her side profile, and his heart did that skipping beat when he saw how achingly familiar she looked. She frowned at the label on a can and switched it out with one from a box at her feet.

 

“Mom?” _No, don’t call her that!_

She turned and looked up at him. And up, and up, and Billy realized how tall he actually was when he was his superhero self. “Pardon?” she asked after a minute, eyebrows raised. Billy cleared his throat and tried again.

 

“Ma’am,” and now he had her full attention, and she stood slowly, eyeing him up and down, and he had a fleeting hopeful thought, _what if she can tell it’s me?_ when she spoke.

 

“Oh my god,” she said, staring at the lightning bolt on his chest. “You’re the Thundercrack.”

 

Billy screamed internally. “Ah,” he chuckled, cursing Freddy with every fibre of his being, “well, while that’s a name some people use, I don’t, uh, I mean I’m not really using that one. Officially,” he shrugged.

 

“Oh,” she said. They stared at each other. She pointed behind her at the shelf. “Did you…need soup?” Billy stared blankly, then nodded.

 

“No.” Crap, wait, “I mean, no. I, uh, just…came in here on patrol! Superhero patrol. That’s how I spend my time, you know. Cause,” he gestured at himself, “I’m an adult. And a superhero. A superhero adult.”

 

She nodded, looking unsure. “Right. Well,” she started to turn from him, “I should get back to work.”

 

“Good idea,” Billy nodded enthusiastically. _Holy crap you’re blowing it, say something else!_ “Um,” he said loudly, stalling. She jumped and gave him a weird look. “I have a question for you.”

 

“Okay?” she said, glancing around as if hoping for a witness.

 

_Would you love me if I didn’t need you?_

“Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around the store lately?” he blurted. _Stupid_ , he chastised himself. His mom gave him a pointed look. “Besides me. Um, an old dude. Man. An old man with…” he cast about for something, _anything_. “A sombrero.”

 

She raised her eyebrows. “An old man with a sombrero?”

 

Billy tore his eyes away from Senor Guillermo’s chunky beef chili and nodded. “Yeah, he’d definitely stand out, you’d remember if you’d seen him.”

 

“Yeah. Uh, no, I haven’t seen an old man with a sombrero.”

 

“Oh good,” he nodded again. “Cool. Okay, well, uh, if you do, don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?”

 

“Talk to him! Or go anywhere with him. He’s um, doing bad stuff. The police are looking for him too. And he’s known to frequent grocery…stores…” _dude what are you even saying?_

“Marilyn! You’re supposed to be stocking the cooler by now,” an older man berated as he approached them. He turned to Billy. “Oh, hey, you’re the Red Thundercrack!”

 

“That’s not my name,” Billy said meekly, glancing at his mother. With a jolt he realized how tired she looked, even more so than when he first found her before Christmas. It made him feel bad. The man waved him off, already losing interest.

 

“Marilyn, the butter is going to melt before you get it in the cooler if you don’t put some pep in your step. And you haven’t even stacked the cans yet,” he sighed. Billy’s mom looked down at the can of soup in her hands.

 

“Sorry, Mr. Gregory. I’ll hurry up—”

 

“Oh, no, it’s my fault,” Billy said in a rush. “I distracted her, I had to tell her—something, and, uh, sorry. I can help! I can do the stacking, I’m kind of fast,” he offered. He looked around and saw a skid full of cans of soup. “These ones? Just, like, a pyramid?” He leaped forward and ripped open the boxes, and _moved_. Less than a minute later he came to a halt in front of his mom and the manager. They were both staring at the lightning bolt he had made out of the cans. He grinned at them and back at the display. “Oh, wait, is that wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize—”

 

“You know what?” Gregory said, surveying the job with his hands on his hips. “Leave it. It’s attention getting.” He grinned at Billy. “What can you do with a front display cooler?”

 

An hour later, the inside of Fawcett Grocery was rearranged into an unrecognizable store.

 

“I know it’s more lightning themed than before,” he shrugged at the employees gathered around him, some laughing, some frowning, confused or downright annoyed. He caught his mom’s eye, and she smiled at him, a brief twist of her lips that sent him rocketing back ten years, seeing that same smile over a meagre Christmas, waiting for him outside of daycare, when he showed her a rock he found. His heart twisted, and he remembered why he was there in the first place. “Can I talk to you?”

 

She looked surprised. “Uh,” she tried to ignore the looks her co-workers were giving her, “for a minute,” she offered. Billy followed her to the produce section and they stopped in front of fresh asparagus. “Listen,” she said in a hushed tone before he could say anything, “I’m not looking for a relationship or anything like that, all right? I don’t know why you came here in the first place but it’s kind of weird.” She shook her head. “I don’t even think you were telling the truth about the man in the sombrero.”

 

“Oh, um,” Billy floundered, mind racing for what to say. “You’re my friend’s mom.” He cringed when her face went blank, expression flat.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Okay, well, he’s not really my friend, but I know him and he mentioned, uh, you,” Billy said awkwardly. His mom closed her eyes, looking resigned.

 

“You’re talking about Billy.” He nodded when she looked at him again. She sighed. “Look, Mr. Thundercrack, I appreciate that you’re trying to do good and help someone out, but…I’m not his mother. I’m just the woman who gave birth to him.”

 

“But, doesn’t that make you his—?”

 

She shook her head. “I’m not going to explain it to you. I don’t even know you.” She eyed him. “What’s a superhero like you doing hanging out with a teenager, anyway?”

 

“Well ma’am, some of us can see the good in everyone,” said a familiar voice from behind Billy. He spun around and saw Freddy striding up behind him, walking sure and strong, cape rippling behind him. He looked Billy’s mom square in the eye. “I happen to know your son as well. And I’m here to tell you, he is the most giving, honest,” here his eyes slid over to Billy and he smiled, “stubborn person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He looked back at her. “And it’s your loss, for not getting to know him. Come on, Thundercrack,” Freddy took Billy’s arm to lead him away.

 

“I thought you said that wasn’t your name?” she called after them. Billy stopped and turned to look at her.

 

“You don’t know anything about me.”

-

-

-

Once outside, Freddy turned to face Billy. “Are you okay?”

 

Billy stared uncomprehendingly. “How did you find me?” Freddy shrugged.

 

“Someone posted a video online of you.”

 

“Oh. Rearranging the store?”

 

Freddy snorted. “No, of your cape stuck in the doors.” Billy sighed.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Hey Billy,” Freddy put a hand on his arm, “before you run off, I need to show you something.” He let go and stepped back, and hovered up. “Come on.” Maybe it was because he didn’t stop and wait for Billy, but just flew off, that Billy followed him. He was still _gone_ , still on his own. That didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to Freddy. He flew after him and caught up to his easy pace. Freddy tossed him a quick grin over his shoulder, and they glided over the city in silence.

 

Billy realized they were heading towards the grounds where the winter carnival was held. He said nothing, but couldn’t help thinking how much better it looked without the monstrous sins running around. He shuddered at the memory of them. They landed in a clearing between empty games booths and Billy followed Freddy towards the small ring where the pony rides are, now just bleachers and rotten bales of straw. Billy pulled up short when he saw who stood there.

 

Darla, Eugene, Pedro, and Mary, all in their superpowered form. Freddy went to stand near them, and they all faced Billy. Darla waved, but it was subdued.

 

Billy tensed, ready for anything. “What are you doing here?”

 

“We wanted to talk to you, Billy,” Mary said, stepping forward. She gave him a small smile. “We were worried about you.”

 

“Well, I’m fine, so,” he shrugged.

 

“Billy,” she looked sad, “why did you leave us?” _Again_ hung unspoken between them.

 

“Sometimes it’s just time to move on, you know?”

 

Mary shook her head. “I think there’s more to it than that.  A lot more.” She looked at him plainly. “Aren’t we your family?”

 

“Sure,” he nodded, “for now.”

 

“For always!” Darla piped up, her hands on her hips as she frowned at Billy.

 

“There is no always in family,” Billy snapped, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He turned his glare on Freddy. “Not even with _your_ parents.”

 

“Dude, _yes_ there is,” Freddy said. “Listen, it was all a misunderstanding. You heard Victor and Rosa talking, right? And that’s what made you leave. But it’s not like that—”

 

“Yes the fuck it is!” Billy cried. “Sorry to break it to you, Freddy, but sometimes it’s _exactly_ like that. Sometimes, there are people who promise you forever. They lie to your face and tell you forever. I don’t care,” he muttered, turning away from them. “I don’t need a family.”

 

“Then why did you go see your mom again?” Freddy’s voice was soft. Billy hated how it sounded to him, pitying, condescending. What he hated more was that he didn’t have an answer. He glared Freddy down instead.

 

“You’re allowed to miss her, Billy,” Eugene said. “Even if she treated you bad.”

 

“I don’t miss her. I wanted to see her because—”

 

The silence stretched on, the carnival grounds calm in the early morning. “Because why?” Freddy pushed. Billy shook his head, staring a hole into the ground at his feet. “Is it because you want a family?”

 

“No,” Billy snarled.

 

“Is it because you want to belong somewhere? Because for once, you want forever to mean just that?”

 

Billy swallowed past the lump in his throat and sneered at Freddy. “Are you deaf, Freeman? I said no.”

 

“See, your mouth says no but your eyes are, like, screaming yes.” Freddy shrugged. “I’ve always been good at reading people.”

 

“Then read this,” Billy flipped him off. A spark of lightning shot from the tips of his fingers. Freddy raised a brow at him.

 

“Really? Are you going to crash another bus ‘cause you’re pissed that I’m right?”

 

“Freddy,” Pedro hissed, eyes narrowed and watching the two of them. Freddy waved him off.

 

“It’s all right, Pedro. I mean, if I’m wrong, then no harm done, right? I’ll just apologize and we’ll move on. But if I’m right, well, then that means Billy’s been lying to himself since he met us.”

 

“I haven’t been lying about anything!”

 

“ _I don’t need a family. I can take care of myself,”_ Freddy pitched his voice low to imitate Billy’s. He raised his brows at him. “That’s a whopper of a lie and you know it.”

 

Billy stormed over to him. “What the _fuck_ does it matter to you?” Freddy stared at him steadily.

 

“Because,” he said, “no matter what, you’re my brother.”

 

He closed the distance between them, pulling Billy into a tight hug. Billy stood, hands trembling at his sides, his whole world enveloped in Freddy’s arms, in that moment. _Holy moly, is this what love feels like_? he wondered wildly. Slowly, he raised his own arms and hesitantly hugged Freddy back. His…brother exhaled heavily and leaned into him.

 

Suddenly there were more arms closing around them both, and Billy lifted his head to see the rest of his family joining them in the hug. He felt like he was suffocating, but in a good way, if there was such a thing. All around him he was pressed tight, warm and completely ensconced in the group. He could _feel_ their emotions, enveloping him unapologetically.

 

Billy took a deep breath when they broke apart, his limbs shaky, heart pounding in his chest. “So,” he said, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice, “that’s what family means, huh?”

 

Mary laughed, wiping quickly at her eyes, and smiled at him. “That, and a whole lot more.” Billy grinned back at her, then remembered.

 

“But, what Vic and Rosa said—”

 

Freddy rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s like, a _classic_  trope.” He leaned in and nudged Billy. “They were talking about Louie.”

 

“Louie?” Billy’s head spun. “Who’s—” he turned to Darla. “Wait. That’s your cat, isn’t it?” Darla nodded.

 

“I don’t know if mom and dad are going to let me keep him, though,” she said, looking sad. She raised her head and exposed her throat.

 

Billy stared at her. “What, uh, am I supposed to do something…?”

 

Eugene poked Darla. “You have to change back to show him.”

 

“Oh, right!” Darla took a step back from them. “Shazam!” Lightning cracked from the sky, and Billy looked down to see her. She pulled her collar away from her neck, showing off three deep gouges.

 

“Are those from Louie?” Billy asked, eyes wide. “I thought he was a nice cat!” Darla shrugged.

 

“He’s a work in progress.”

 

“So…” Billy frowned, thinking back, “when they said _he can’t stay here if he’s violent,_ they weren’t…talking about me?”

 

“ _No,”_ Freddy swore.

 

“So,” Billy said again, his voice small, “they don’t want to get rid of me?”

 

Darla stepped forward and hugged him tightly, craning her neck up to look him in the eye. “Never.” She smiled at him. “Family means forever.”

 

As Billy hugged her back, he realized.

 

She was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...there's going to be an epilogue.


	4. Chapter 4

Billy swiveled in his chair, staring at nothing. The silence was prolonged, but not threatening. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know.” _Liar._

 

“What about your foster parents?” George asked. “Do you love them?”

 

Billy nodded, rolling the Rubik’s cube in his hands.

 

“What does it feel like, Billy? Loving them?”

 

Billy frowned. “I…I don’t know how to explain it.”

 

George shrugged. “Try.”

 

“Um, I guess—”

 

_“Billy!” Rosa was white-faced with relief, Victor a steady presence behind her. He stood nervously on the doorstep, Freddy and their siblings right behind him. Freddy gave him a nudge._

_“Um, I’m sorry. Again. I, I thought you were talking about me, about making me leave, but it was just the cat—” he laughed shortly. “So that’s embarrassing…” He felt his stomach drop when he saw the watery-eyed expression on Rosa’s face. “Oh god, I’m sorry, please don’t cry,” he looked helplessly over his shoulder and turned back when warm hands gripped his._

_“Billy, you absolute_ child _,” Rosa breathed, squeezing his hands tightly. “You foolish, nosey, boy. Come hell or high water, you are part of this family. I don’t care if you crash our car, or steal the Mona Lisa, or fight a hundred men a day—”_

_“—but please don’t do any of that,” Victor tossed in from over his wife’s shoulder._

_“—you are our son. Not by blood, but by every other way. And it doesn’t stop when I die,” she added. “I’ll come back from the dead to beat this message into your skull, do you understand me?”_

_Billy snorted. “Yeah,” he grinned at her, then stepped forward and buried himself in her arms. He was held instantly, a soft hand stroking the back of his head._

“Safe,” Billy decided on. “And…like I’m not doing something wrong by it.” George nodded and caught the Rubik’s cube when Billy tossed it, the red side solved. He began turning it in his own hands absentmindedly.

 

“If you could tell your mother one thing, what would it be?”

 

_“Sometimes, I still go to her store,” Billy admitted, keeping his head down, afraid to see Freddy’s reaction._

_“Cause you wanna see her?” Freddy asked. Billy shrugged, the toe of his runners fascinating._

_“I don’t know if I do or not. I haven’t yet, not since…” he trailed off._

_“You know you can’t change the way she thinks about you.”_

_“I know that,” Billy snapped, feeling stupid, immature. Freddy huffed a laugh._

_“I’m glad you do, cause I don’t.” He shrugged at Billy’s look. “With my parents, I mean. And not—” he jerked his head at the house— “not Vic and Rosa. But my ‘real’ ones, though how real did they end up being, who just—” he cleared his throat. “Anyways. Even though I’ve lived here, with them, for three years, I still want to go back. Change things with my parents. Try to make them see that I’m not such a burden anymore, that they don’t have to put their lives on hold because their crippled kid can’t go to the washroom without falling over or gets his crutch stuck in a sewer grate. Oh yeah,” he said to Billy’s raised eyebrows, “yeah, that happened. On a school trip. Made me super popular.”_

_“You are so clumsy,” Billy muttered. Freddy laughed and dug his elbow in Billy’s side._

_“What the fuck ever, at least_ I’ve _never got my frigging cape stuck in a_ door _—”_

_Billy jabbed him back and they tussled on the lawn in the shadow of their house. It ended when Freddy shoved a handful of dirt in Billy’s face and scrambled away when Billy turned on him threateningly._

_“C’mon Billy,” Freddy pleaded, holding his crutch up in front of him like a shield, “you wouldn’t hit a kid with a gimp leg, would you?” Billy spat dirt and glared at Freddy before breaking out into a grin, and held a hand out._

_“Nah.” He pulled Freddy to his feet, then flicked his forehead. “But the next time you go shazoom, I’m kicking your ass.”_

_Freddy coughed and grabbed at his throat, eyes wide. “Oh shit,” he rasped, “my congenital laryngitis is starting. After this I’ll never be able to talk again,” his voice grew weaker with every word. “No…more…Shazam!” Billy jumped back as the familiar bolt of lightning blazed down. Freddy’s crutch toppled in the grass as a blurred shape shot out of the haze, blasting towards the sky._

_Billy narrowed his eyes after the receding blue figure. “You’re dead. Shazam!”_

Billy shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say to her. She made herself pretty clear the last time I saw her. And,” he added hesitantly, “I don’t want to waste any more words on her.”

 

George smiled at him and tossed the puzzle back, the previously solved red side now mixed back up.

 

“Hey,” Billy said indignantly, “you know how long it took me to do that?” He held the mixed-up cube accusingly.

 

“Yes, I do,” George replied. “I sat and watched you work on it for the last four sessions.” Billy grumbled to himself and set to work, frowning down at the cube. “Would you tell your mother that you’re the superhero known as Shazam?”

 

His question was so casual, Billy didn’t even register it at first. “I thought about it,” he admitted, clicking a red section into place, “but I haven’t even told—” he froze and slowly looked up at George. “What did you say?”

 

_“No way are we telling them,” Eugene said adamantly, shaking his head. Darla sighed._

_“But they would be so_ proud _of us!”_

_“Yeah, or, more likely, tell us we’re never going out crimefighting again and ground us til we’re dead,” he pointed out._

_“How can they ground six superheroes?” Pedro asked from where he was shadow-boxing ten feet off the ground._

_“They’re_ parents, _they can ground anyone,” Eugene said. He shook his head. “Mary, what do you think?” Darla turned hopeful eyes on her big sister. Mary sighed._

_“I don’t think we should tell them, Darla,” she said apologetically. “And it’s not just because I think we would get in trouble,” she said quickly when Darla stubbornly opened her mouth. “Just think of how worried they would be if they knew we went out to do what we do all the time.”_

_“Oh,” Darla said, deflating a little. “I never thought of that.” Freddy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave an encouraging shake._

_“We might be able to tell them one day. You know, when we’ve all moved out and they can’t yell at us for it.”_

_“They’ll still yell,” Eugene declared. “Victor already told me he’s following me to whatever college I go to. They always find a way,” he sighed._

_Billy laughed. “Rosa told me that wherever I live has to have bunk beds and she always gets the top.” The rest of them laughed. “Just imagine it: a sibling superhero group with a curfew…”_

George smiled at him. “I’ve seen your videos, and I _know_ you. To me, it was obvious,” he shrugged, “to someone who doesn’t know you, it wouldn’t be.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I have to admit I do like the sound of ‘Shazam’ more than I do ‘Thundercrack’.”

 

Billy sputtered, his fingers sweaty around the Rubik’s cube. “That—what—” he huffed an exasperated breath.

 

“You’re a lot like him even when you don’t look like him,” George continued after Billy’s outburst. Billy scoffed.

 

“No way, man. When I’m Sha—him, I’m a _superhero_. I can fly and have bullet immunity, I’m super strong.” He dropped his gaze to the puzzle, feeling tense, knowing someone knew his secret.

 

“Shazam is known for his bravado. He’s helped more people than he even knows. He’s well-respected for the way he treats his _five_ cohorts,” George gave him a meaningful look, “like family. And,” he reached out and plucked the cube from Billy’s hands, holding it up to show off the completed red side, “he never gives up.”

 

_“Shazam! He’s here!”_

_“Please, help us!”_

_“I will!” Billy yelled back, heart thrumming rapidly. “Oh shit, oh shit ohshitohshit,” he muttered. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” He grunted as he was pulled forward, his grip on the train tenuous. He dug his heels into the bridge and heard steel struts snap off to drop to the raging river a hundred feet below. He was jerked forward another inch. The people in the train screamed. “Okay!” Billy yelled. “You’re gonna be okay, I just—” he gritted his teeth— “I just don’t know what the hell to do,” he said to himself. His arms were starting to shake from holding thousands of pounds of train steel._

 

_The train car screeched forward. “Everybody get to the back!” Billy yelled desperately. He was dismayed to see so many faces pressed to the windows above him. He didn’t think he could save them all if the car dropped or the bridge snapped. Steel groaned underfoot and he was pulled forward again. He planted his feet, grit his teeth, and leaned back, arms shaking with effort. His chest felt like there was a band constricting around it, making each breath a struggle._

_He roared with effort, felt the steel under his fingers warp, and he put his all into it and_ pulled. _His heart stopped when the rail he stood on bent and he slipped. The train car fell from his grasp._

_“No!” He threw his hands out after it, desperate. Lightning shot from his hands, and he had a horrified thought that he was about to blow the car apart. To his astonishment, the lightning fell around the car, surrounding it from one end to the other, crackling quietly. It looked like a web made of lightning. He drew his arms back, and had to fight to move them. The bridge creaked and with a shriek of tortured metal, fell away from under his feet. Billy caught himself and was hovering, holding a train car from fifteen feet away with nothing but the steady charge of lightning emanating from his arms._

_“Holy moly,” he whispered, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with the people inside the car. He moved, slowly turning in the air, dragging the car through the air. He was terrified to move it too fast, considering he didn’t really know how he was doing what he was doing. The people on the other side of the ruined bridge were cheering, scattered around the remnants of the derailed train. Billy’s arms shook as he moved, and he pushed forward, sweat breaking out along his brow as he forced the train onto the ground with one last monumental push._

_It dropped a foot to the ground, and the current from his arms cut off. He slumped in relief and almost fell, barely catching himself and flying to sit heavily just beyond the destroyed bridge. His whole body ached and he couldn’t get his legs to stop shaking. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest._

_“Shazam!” He turned wearily and saw a gaggle of people running to him, paramedics in the mix. “Are you all right?” asked the woman who had called his name. “You…you saved all of us,” she said, dropping to her knees next to him. “How can we ever thank you?” Billy laughed and dropped to lie on the dirt._

_“Just…don’t ask me to do it again,” he panted._

“Billy,” George leaned forward, expression serious, “your secret is safe with me. Do you feel like you can trust me?”

 

Billy frowned and considered George. He had shared a lot with him over the last few months, more than he ever thought he would be able to share with anyone. He trusted George, he knew that; he wouldn’t have been able to talk to him about his mother as readily as he did otherwise, or about his childhood growing up in the system. But to what degree did he trust him was the question. “Yes,” he said slowly.

 

“But?” George prompted after a quiet moment. Billy swallowed, fingers tapping against his knee.

 

“I just…I never thought I would ever tell anyone.”

 

“Well, you didn’t tell me,” George pointed out. Billy huffed a breath and stood to look out the window at the parking lot below, the trees beyond.

 

“I don’t know if that makes it worse or better.”

 

George remained in his chair. “Would you like to know why I told you that I know about you, Billy?” Billy jerked his head in a nod. “I didn’t want to know something about you without you knowing. I’ve always asked for transparency from you, and I demand it from myself as well. And,” he added, “I think that maybe you could benefit from talking about what you go through as your alter ego.”

 

“So, no secrets?” Billy asked, turning to face him, choosing to ignore George’s last sentence. George nodded.

 

“No secrets.”

 

“Except you won’t tell anyone, about me.”

 

“Not a soul,” George swore, eyes flashing with a promise. Billy chewed his lip, mind racing. Then he grinned.

 

“It’s not like anyone would believe you, anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR REAL it's done this time. And that's kind of bittersweet. But it means I can focus on my next few Shazam! ideas. I am 100% deep in the Shazamdom and I love it. And a lot of that comes from everyone who read and kudos'd and commented. I've literally never written a fic this long and finished it this fast and that really stems from all the encouragement. So thaaaaanks :))))  
> If you have a prompt for a Shazam! fic, let me know! I'm always open to suggestions and being flat-out told what to do.  
> And we haven't seen the last of George. Is that a good or bad thing? Time will tell.  
> Until next time, friendlies!  
> Next story is called 'Five Times Billy Carried Freddy and One Time Freddy Carried Him.' Look for it within the week!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest, I laughed for five minutes straight when Billy said, "I can see why Rocky trained so hard to get here." I'm paraphrasing, I can't remember the line exactly but it had me laughing for a g e s and that was when I fell completely in love with the movie. Naturally, I came here and went "ooh, angst n such" so this was born. It was going to be a oneshot but I wanted to see if it was actually liked before I spat up another 5K words for the second half so I'm splitting it into two parts.
> 
> If you like it, please tell me why! If you don't, please tell me why! I wrote this in three days. So I can see the second half being done within a week. And there's still so much to cover. I feel like this is way too long with not much happening but ehhh. Sue me. Go ahead, I have nothing. It'll be funny.


End file.
